Revenge Isn't Always Sweet
by AmerriKat
Summary: After Japan struck Pearl Harbor, America needed revenge. So after he bombs the two towns of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, he realized what he did was wrong, when he sees the limp figure of Japan while visiting his home soon after the brutal atomic bombing. Rated T to be safe because of heavy mentions of blood-Short summary is short, but give the story a chance, if you would.


America prodded his right hand, rubbing his fingernails against the dermis of his skin. It felt strangely and eerily numb.

It had been that way all day. An indignant frown had managed to paint its way onto his face at every prod which did not even tingle his hand nerves.

This was much of a nuisance to the country. He pushed himself up from the wooden chair which he sat, walking a few feet over to the kitchen counter.

He carefully rubbed the palm of his senseless hand against the tile-like platforms of metal adorning the tall counter. Nothing.

America had slumped back onto the chair, trying to make out an option for the numbness overtaking his right hand. Maybe it just fell asleep? No.. it wasn't tingling.

Maybe.. he began to contravene possible ideas to figure out the mystery of his limp hand. He flexed his opposing hand, reaching over to prod the numb fingers of the hand once more.

Surprise churned in his chest as his fingers felt sticky liquid dripping past his fingers. His mind snapped to reality and he quickly cast his head downward to catch a horrifying glimpse of a well-sized wound drilled into his hand.

The sight brought the pain to him. An agonizing shriek of terror escaped from his lips.

The chair fell backwards at the impact of weight forcing itself backward, as did the startled country. America quickly scrambled to his feet, pounding swiftly across the house.

He slipped on his shoes, slipping the phone into his hands. He had to find out what was happening. Now.

America had heard about the sudden attack by Japan on Pearl Harbor. He was traveling there now-while the attack was still underway.

The helicopter he rode was rather quick, getting the country to the island. He stared, horror-struck and slightly dumbfounded at the many people running for their lives.

They ran into surrounding forests, or falling over themselves as they bumped into each other, every which way possible.

The bleeding in his hand did not fare well, for now it was completely drenched in sticky red fluids. He ignored the pain. He needed to fix the crumpled harbor and island before covering the new wound.

He heard shouts from behind him as military U.S. soldiers ran past the dirty blonde, running towards the enemy soldiers who were surprisingly close. America rolled to the side, allowing the many U.S. army fighters to pass by without bumping shoulders with him.

After minutes of running through the fire-struck lands, a familiar sight was brought into his gaze. A white naval uniform with black and gold accents.

Hate and rage pooled America's usually-lax gaze. His amethyst eyes had turned from their playful state into a life-threatening glare.

He pounded the ground in a quick sprint, staying out of the man's sight the best he could. A loud growl escaped from his lips as his arms grasped the unwary man's chest, pulling him backwards.

A gasp bypassed the Japanese man's lips as he recognized the once-friendly face of America. America's tight grasp had been pushing much pressure onto Japan's chest, making it very hard to breathe properly.

Japan huffed and threw his legs in the air, successfully jabbing his feet into the face of America. America fell backward. Pain seared through his jaw, in the exact spot he had been struck.

Japan stood up shakily. America raised his head upward. His gaze was laced with nothing but hate and the need for revenge. The ebony-haired Japanese man couldn't help but let his eyes water.

He did not want to attack America, he truly did not wish to. It was his boss' orders, not his own. America had soon returned to a weak position of standing.

America noticed how light-headed he felt, dizziness licking at his mind like the water dripping from a melting icicle. The blood oozing from his hand must have been the source of this sudden flood of frivolity.

His gaze slightly began to blur, just as the sight of a white uniform began to shrink away. America limply ran towards Japan, letting out low growls of hate. He had not realized how far the enemy had gotten.

Japan had reached his helicopter and was now standing in the entrance. America looked up. His flat teeth grinded against each other angrily. How could he have let Japan get away? He was always supposed to be the hero, saving the day!

Japan looked downwards after the helicopter had started to swerve its powerful blades. His dark chestnut eyes were glued onto the beaten country below, which was slowly shrinking away as the helicopter drew higher and higher into the smoky air.

The Japanese country turned his head away from the saddening scene of America, looking as helpless and pitiful as he did. "I'm so sorry.." Japan murmured in Japanese before returning to the inner depths of the helicopter.

* * *

Yehhhhh. Pearl Harbor c:.. I was learning about it in class and whenever she said "Japan" or "America" I had to cover my mouth to stop from laughing.


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